All Good Things
by shinrai
Summary: Edward Cullen spends an afternoon with his grandson telling the story that began the summer of 1963 behind the lone Vespa in his garage. A Vespa owned by the woman who owned his heart. A girl by the name of Isabella. AH/AU/AR
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Suffice it is to say that I do not own Twilight, it's characters, the song New For You, or anything else. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in FF now, would I? Story is a product of my imagination, and that's about the only thing I own here.

**Prologue**

_Memories fly into the taillight_

_Under the truth_

_Where everything's new for you_

-New For You (Reeve Carney)

**-Edward Cullen-**

Present Day | Summer | Chicago

"Here's your coffee, Gramps."

My grandson hands me a mug of freshly brewed coffee. It was almost a ritual, this thing we do together. After our Sunday family lunch, he stays and spends time with his old man. He brews me coffee, and we'd talk. Sometimes we'd go to the garage, tinker with the cars and go for a drive, the only vice I sustained in my life. This was one of those garage days.

"Thanks, kid." I said as I reached for the mug he hands me. I smile at him, seeing a version of my younger self. "Do you want to work on the Jag today?"

He shrugged and raised an eyebrow, "Will you let me drive?"

This was a joke, of course. I have resigned myself from driving in the last year. My body not always following what my mind wants to do. Aging does that to you. It's probably about time it catches up on me, too. Eighty is a pretty damn late age to start going slow.

"Only if you tell everyone else I did the driving," I countered.

He laughed a little, falling in step with me as we opened the garage. It looked more like a little parking lot, really. Seven cars and three bikes can give that impression. But I did admit it was a vice, didn't I?

Entering the garage, we moved towards the spot where the Jaguars were parked. I owned two, which were both vintage by today's standard. They were a Mark IX and an E-Type S1. "So, which one are you playing with today, son?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You want the Mark?"

"I'm off chauffeuring duties," he quipped, as he moved towards the E-Type. I laughed at his response, understanding what he meant. Back in the 50's, my father's Mark IX was considered a sports car. Today, it was something people used to transport the bride. I have lent it to my son and nephew when they each got married. It has had that reputation since.

While my grandson did the routine check on the car, I looked around the garage. My eyes fell on the blue Vespa nearly hidden at the back of the garage. It was the most delicate vehicle in this garage. _"Like a lady sitting in a room of men,"_ as what my grandson once told me. He had asked me several times why I owned and maintained an old Vespa I never really used. Or allowed anyone to, for that matter. I've always told him it was a long story to be saved for another day.

"Want to tell me the Tale of the Vespa now?" I heard him say, as if on cue. I would look at the Vespa, he would ask me that question, and I would decline. We live by such rituals.

But maybe not today. I think I'm old enough to risk a little, after all. The story to be told being the most dangerous risk of all.

"Yes, I would." I turned to him with a slight smile on my face.

He dropped the tool he had on hand as he heard my response, which was really not the usual script we followed. Then his face turned into a grin. "Really?"

I shrugged, "If I postpone it any later, then you might never hear the story." I started moving towards the passenger door, "it's a long tale, though. So, prepare yourself for a long drive."

Starting the engine, my grandson slowly manoeuvred the vehicle outside of the garage. We sat in comfortable silence while he waited for me to start. Once we hit the main road, I began my story. One that started at the end of a summer, and ended at the start of another.

"The Vespa is owned by a woman named Isabella," I said. "I met her in the summer of 1963. I was twenty-one, and I knew from the moment I met her that I would love her forever."

**AN:** I'm on the fence on whether I should continue this story or not. I'll leave it open for now and see where it takes us. This did not go through proofreading or a beta. I don't have one yet. Volunteers? I pay really good virtual chocolates. Your reviews are well appreciated. :)


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: **All publicly recognized characters and forms of media are not mine. My imagination tends to run away to far off distant places, then it comes back to me with things like this. I did not live in any of the places mentioned or even in that generation, but I insist on researching as part of a writer's due diligence. If anything written is inaccurate, please let me know. If I can't make the revisions, let's charge it to creative license. I truly appreciate the folks who read, followed and took time to review. I have to set the expectation, though, that there will be drama here. I believe in HEA, but I don't believe it happens as often as it should. For the time being, let's see how it all began.

**Chapter 1**

_Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions_

_Oh, let's go back to the start_

-The Scientist (Coldplay)

-Edward Cullen-

1963 | End of Summer | Boston

I breathed deeply as I walked through the streets of Boston. It was the end of summer and classes were about to resume. The city was filled with incoming freshmen and returning undergraduates. I was one of the latter, an incoming junior at Harvard. I was fresh from spending summer with my friends, and about to start the new term. I looked around before I crossed the street on Harvard Square. There were people milling around, getting into the start of school buzz.

Crossing the street, I made my way to The Tasty, which was an institution in itself. Entering the small café, I scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The place was always packed, and it was almost impossible to get a seat.

"Edward!"

I turned towards the voice that called me, a grin coming up to my face. Alice was waving her hands animatedly, motioning for me to join her and our parents in a small corner at the end of the counter that they managed to get. I weaved my way through the crowd until I reached them.

Alice jumped up to give me a hug, "It's so great to see you!" She exclaimed excitedly. She was an incoming freshman at Radcliffe, and today was moving day. My parents, Masen and Elizabeth Cullen, traveled with her from Chicago to get her settled in her dorm. I knew that she was looking forward to spending more time with me now that we were in the same city. Albeit, in different dorms, but it's still a better option than the distance between Boston and Chicago.

I leaned down to give my mother a kiss on the cheek, "Hello, Mother." I nodded towards my father, "Father."

My father acknowledged my greeting with a nod as he sipped his coffee. My mother touched my cheek, which was covered in stubble. "When was the last time you shaved, dear?" Clearly, she was not impressed with my growing beard.

My parents were elitist Chicagoans. My family have always been wealthy and educated. Almost everyone in the family was in some sort of medical field. I, myself, am completing my pre-med and expect to be able to join the long list of Dr. Cullens in Chicago.

"It's moving day, Edward!" Alice pokes at me, distracting me from responding to my mother's question.

"So it is," I answered, grinning. Alice was so excited to start college that she was almost bouncing off her seat. She's been looking forward to experiencing a little bit of independence. Sure, she'd be staying in the girls' dorm, but it was better than being chaperoned around the city by a driver and a nanny. Our parents were quite protective of their little girl.

"Will you be helping me move?" She asks.

I threw her an apologetic smile as I replied, "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" she asked, the statement coming out more as a wail. She was used to getting what she usually wants, and that often includes having everyone at her beck and call.

"I have to meet with my advisor this afternoon." I explained.

She looked like she was about to protest when my father spoke, "I'm sure your brother has a lot on his hands right now. You'll get to see him more often once you start school here."

My mother agreed, nodding her head. "Would you have time to join us for dinner, though?" She asked. "We're going to back home early tomorrow, so we might not get to see you again until Thanksgiving."

I thought about the amount of work I'd be presenting to my advisor. Considering how much time I spent on it over the summer, I'd be lucky to get out of that before dinner. So, I give my mother a non-committal, "I'll try."

Alice raises an eyebrow at me and starts looking mischievous, "I'm sure you've probably made plans to spend dinner with a girl, that's why."

"Alice!" My mother chided.

She looks at my mother, shrugging her dainty shoulders, while my father looked on, shaking his head. This was a typical banter we would have, and he has learned to speak less in the presence of the women in his life.

"Your brother will not be so discourteous as to not introduce a lady he's involved with to us," my mother says pointedly. Turning to me, she says, "Surely, you can invite her to join us for dinner while we're in town."

I sighed deeply, looking at my father for help. He ignores me by drinking in from his almost empty coffee cup.

"There is no lady, Mother." I say, glaring a little at Alice for what she's started. "I'll be meeting my advisor and I'm not sure how long that will take, so I can't promise being able to join you for dinner."

"You can join us if you finish early, though, right?" Alice persisted. "Come on, Edward! It'll be Thanksgiving before we'll all be together again, and it won't be as fun because Uncle Eleazar will be there and he'll spend the entire night retelling the same stories he told last Fourth of July."

I couldn't help but laugh. She was right, of course. Our Uncle Eleazar has the tendency to talk about the same experience every family gathering. My mother chided her, anyway.

"Seriously, Mary Alice!"

I decided to pacify her before she started a full-blown tantrum. "Okay. I'll try to convince my advisor to finish by six so I can be there."

My sister squealed as she wrapped her arms around me. I couldn't help noticing that my mother seems to have a satisfied smile on her face. Maybe they had this all planned out beforehand.

I spend a little more time talking to them before I say goodbye to go back to my dorm and prepare for my meeting. Promising to join them later at the hotel where my parents were staying.

Walking back to campus, I mentally calculated the time I had to get to my room, gather my things, and cross the campus to my thesis advisor's office.

It was probably my fault because I wasn't completely paying attention to where I was going, but I knew I was by the gutter when something hit me by my arm and had me trip on my feet. I avoided falling over by breaking my fall with my arms. Since when have I been clumsy? As I was getting up, I heard a voice call out to me.

"Hey!" I looked up to see a girl in a red sweater and brown suede skirt sitting on a blue Vespa. Her head was turned to me, but I couldn't see her face because she was wearing a helmet the same shade of blue as her bike. "Are you okay?" I heard her muffled question behind the helmet covering her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said. I was more surprised than really hurt. It wasn't even painful. I've been handled worse at the gym.

She nodded her head, acknowledging my answer. "Great!" She turned back and pushed her bike forward, "I'm sorry, but I've got to go."

And then she was gone.

| To be continued |

References:

The Scientist - A Rush of Blood to the Head (2002); Coldplay

Harvard - I don't think this institution needs an explanation. Ivy League university located in Boston. Est. 1636

The Tasty - A sandwich shop frequented by Harvard students.

Vespa - Scooter manufactured by the Italian company Piaggio.

**AN:** I know it's really short, but this is a bit of a slow burn. How about you tell me what you think and I'll post an update early next week?


	3. Chapter 2

**AN:** I own nothing, but I love all you people for liking and following this little pet project. I have no beta, though, so don't judge. Please? *blink blink* This chapter is for **SunflowerFran** for all the love in the last two chapters. Now, let's see here...

**Chapter 2**

_Fascinating new thing_

_Get beside me_

_I want you to love me_

- F.N.T. (Semisonic)

-**Edward Cullen**-

1963 | Start of Fall | Boston

A few days later, I was crossing the Yard when it started raining. I was coming from one end of the campus, on the other side of the dorms. I knew I should have brought an umbrella earlier today, but I was thinking that I probably wouldn't need it since it didn't look like it was going to rain.

However, I turned out to be wrong.

The yard is empty, most of the students having already sought shelter earlier. I was grateful to be wearing my sweatshirt, but it wasn't going to be useful considering how the light drizzle seemed to be turning into a heavier downpour. I run across the yard, ducking my head under my hands, stupidly thinking it might help somehow. I cursed the fact that my dorm was so far from where I was.

Halfway through the yard, I saw a bright yellow umbrella ahead. He must be a freshman considering how small his frame was. I was nearly drenched, and all I saw was the shelter in the middle of the yard. I rushed towards it and quickly ducked underneath, nearly toppling the person holding it.

"I'm sorry," I apologized immediately, wanting to be able to explain. However, my explanation died on my lips as I looked at the startled brown eyes in front of me. Possibly a freshman, but she was definitely not male.

I don't know what made me think she was a boy. She had long, brown hair that curled at the tips around her shoulders. Her wide brown eyes staring back at me were covered with russet lashes that would probably reach her cheekbones if she closed her eyes. Her small pink lips formed an oval, as if she was trying to say something that she was finding difficulty to articulate.

My mouth must have been hanging open for an entire minute before I managed to swallow and clear my throat. She probably isn't the one having difficulty articulating.

"I'm sorry," I muttered again. "I didn't mean to accost you like that."

She narrowed her eyes a little at me, as if trying to place me. Trying to figure out where my existence fit under her bright yellow umbrella.

I cleared my throat again, "I just saw your umbrella and kind of instinctively ducked. I mean no harm, seriously." I added, reassuring her that I do not do this on a normal basis.

A look passes her eyes, like she has finally figured out where to put me, and then she smiles. It was probably the most insane thought, but there was nothing I could focus more on that moment than how she lit up when she smiled. It felt like the small sheltered space we had was suddenly bright and warm.

"It's okay," she answered. "This makes us even now."

Her voice would have placed me under a spell as much as her smile had if her words hadn't confused me. I frowned at her answer, and I saw her smile deepen.

"I guess you wouldn't know, but I almost ran you over a few days ago." She explained.

"Ran me over?" I asked.

Her smile suddenly turned sheepish as she ducked her head a bit. "Harvard Square?"

I wasn't following this conversation, obviously, as I felt my frown deepening.

"Across the Tasty?" She added, looking like she expects me to know. I've been to the Tasty several times, but I don't remember seeing her face there. And her face is something I would definitely remember.

She looked at me, her eyes imploring me to remember, "A Vespa?"

Then I suddenly remembered my near-accident after meeting my family on moving day. My recollection probably reflected on my face as I uttered a small, "Oh." I remember a girl on a motorbike, but I never saw her face. "Is that right?" I said as I recollected the incident.

She managed to look sheepish again, but only for a moment. "I didn't mean to rough you up, but I was late meeting my father at the SoHo." She gave me a once over, as if checking if she had left any injuries after.

"It would probably take more than that to rough me up," I answered, smirking.

She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me and shrugged. Giving me a look that says it's all over and done with. "So, where are you headed?" She asked.

"To Eliot House," I answered, pointing towards the stone building across the yard.

"I guess I can walk you there so you don't end up getting any more drenched than you already are, then we can call it even." She offered, starting to walk towards my dorm.

I followed instinctively, a smile forming on my lips as I moved to keep up with her. The rain continued to pelt on the small canopy covering our heads, no sign of stopping soon. The sky was gloomy and the earth was damp, but I've never felt more warmed.

"So," I started, as I walked alongside her, noting the sweater she was wearing, "Radcliffe, huh?"

She threw an amused glance towards my own sweatshirt, which was bearing my alma mater's name, and answered, "Yes, Harvard. There's your writing on the wall."

I laughed at her retort, amused by her ability to throw back my own line at me.

"Do you come in another name?" I ask.

She threw me a smirk. "Several," she answered. "None I'd be too eager to share."

"Why is that?"

She stopped walking, right in the middle of the quad, making me halt my steps as she turned to me. "You're an athlete, aren't you?" She said it more as a statement than as a question. Even more interesting was the evident disappointment in her voice as she stated it.

I threw her an amused look. "And that's a mark against me, because?"

She started walking again, "I'm wary about feeding the intellectual ego of an athlete. I'm sure they have powerful muscles, but I can't say they always have personality."

I tried not to smile and frown at the same time from her barb. I wasn't sure if she just complimented my muscles or insulted my ego.

I've been in college the last three years and have been busy with pre-med, but that doesn't mean I've been living like a monk. I've dated girls frequently, but not enough to make me some sort of big man on campus. A lot of them went to Radcliffe. Smart women who were cut from the same background I had. None of them, though, has managed to exemplify the same kind of wit this particular Radcliffe girl was showing me in the last few minutes. It was surprisingly refreshing.

"Do you happen to be majoring in aphorism, or does this come naturally to you?" I asked.

She turned a surprise look at me, "A man who knows the word aphorism," she grinned and turned back to looking at the path ahead, "You must be after my heart."

Her statement caught me off guard, but not in a bad way. Not in a bad way at all.

"It comes naturally, just so you know." She continued, answering my initial question, "however, I do intend to major in Comparative Literature eventually."

I was surprised with her response. She was obviously fresh enough to not need to choose a major. To confirm, I went ahead and asked, "Are you a freshman?"

She nodded and quirked an eyebrow at me, "Moving day, remember?"

"Is there much to do with that?" I asked her, wondering what makes her want something not many people would choose to have a career on. "Comparative Literature, I mean?"

She smiled a little, more to herself than to me, as if she knew that question was going to be asked. "There's not much in terms of a career, if that's what you're asking." She answered, "But there's something about the study of words and how it is used to communicate that I find fascinating."

"Like talking?" I asked, wanting to understand her logic.

"Talking, writing, reading, anything that uses words," she answers. "There's something beautiful about how words can be interpreted in different ways by different cultures. For all that it's used to converse, it's also the cause of miscommunication."

Her words fascinated me as much as her voice did. She talked about it as if she really just feels like she's compelled to. It wasn't an obligation to learn it. Like how some people play for the love of the game, she wanted to learn it for the love of the lesson.

"What about you, Harvard?" She asks.

"What about me?"

"What are you here to learn?"

After hearing her talk about how much one subject fascinates her, I almost felt like mine didn't measure up. "I'm studying to become a doctor."

She lifts a corner of her mouth at me the same time one of her eyebrows raise, "Planning to be a big shot now, aren't we?"

I shrugged, not wanting to elaborate since my passion for my chosen field probably did not match hers. All my life I've planned to become a doctor because it was expected of me to want it. I don't dislike it, but I began to wonder if I would ever hold as much passion for it as she does with her words.

"Eliot House, right?" I heard her say. I looked up to see that we have reached my dorm.

"So here we are," I said. I turned to her intending to thank her for sharing her umbrella with me and taking the time to walk me to my door, but she beat me to speaking.

"I guess we can call it even now, huh?" She said.

I nodded, smiling a little. "Thank you for being so generous with your shelter," I tell her. Even if I still want her to be indebted to me. For a long time, if possible, so I can spend more time walking with her under her bright yellow umbrella.

"No problem," she smiled, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly turned. "I'll see you around, Harvard."

I stood at the door of Eliot House, watching as the bright yellow canopy slowly walked away. And all I could think of was; why did my dorm have to be so close?

| **To be continued** |

References:

F.N.T. - Great Divide (1996); Semisonic

SoHo - South House; residential house for undergraduates in Radcliffe College before it was merged with the East House and renamed.

Eliot House - residential house for upperclassmen in Harvard. In the 60's, it was known as the "prep" house. Mainly referenced for use in the movie _Love Story_ (1970).

Radcliffe - Est. 1879 as a women's college before it was fully integrated with Harvard in 1977.

**AN:** Tell me what you think, loves.


	4. Chapter 3

**AN:** I own none of the publicly recognized characters. I wish I did, but yeah. Such is my luck. This is a short chapter, but hopefully fun. So here you go.

**Chapter 3**

_To me, you're strange and beautiful_

_You'd be so perfect with me but you just can't see_

_You turn every head but you don't see me_

- Strange and Beautiful (Aqualung)

**-Edward Cullen-**

1963 | Fall | Boston

Later in the week, I decided to visit Alice in her dorm. The logical part of my brain telling me that I wanted to see how comfortably she is settling in college. An irrational part of me was hoping I could get a glimpse of Radcliffe – the bright yellow umbrella girl. I haven't seen her since she walked me to my dorm. I realized a little too late that I didn't even get her name. So, I have taken to calling her Radcliffe in my head.

It was late afternoon, and the leaves have turned a golden color. I've never truly appreciated fall until I moved to Boston. There was something about how those golden-colored leaves offset the red bricks of the houses. Particularly, on this side of the Quad.

Bounding up the steps of the South House, I entered the common hall. Given the time of day, I had expected a bustle in the house, and I was not disappointed. Women moved around the hall trying to go from one place to another. I tried to remember which hall Alice was in, but for the life of me, I can't seem to remember it.

"Excuse me," I said to no one in particular, hoping someone would take notice, "I'm looking for Alice Cullen."

No one answered me. Everyone seems to be indulged in their own little chaos, that they didn't even notice the stranger in the house.

"Excuse me," I said a little louder.

Still no one looked.

I was beginning to feel invisible, when I saw my pixie sister enter the hall.

"Alice!" I yelled, waving to her.

She turned her head and instantly brightened, "Edward!" She jumped gleefully and ran towards me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

"Easy there, pix," I grinned.

"I'm so glad you dropped by!" She cried in her usual excited state as she hugged me. My sister never outgrew being affectionate.

"I figured I should see how you're settling in," I said.

"About time," she replied, punching my side a little. It didn't hurt at all, but I winced anyway. She let me go enough to drag me to a couch to sit.

"So, how's everything, Al?" I asked.

"It's been great, Edward!" She exclaimed. College was obviously warming up to her. She began an animated story of how it has been since the day she moved, talking about her rooms, her classes, her peers, and the friends she's gained. Alice never had trouble fitting in; it wasn't surprising to see she had adjusted to college life so soon.

In the middle of her rant, her face brightened. "This is great! I'd like you to meet my roommate, Edward," she said, grabbing my hand as she urged me to stand up. "I've already decided that she and I are going to be best friends."

"Isn't that a little presumptuous, pix?" I asked, not really surprised she has reached a conclusion most people grow into. Alice was just like that.

"You know I'm never wrong when it comes to things like these," she answered. "Let me just find her so I can introduce you."

"Alice, I really don't-" I found that there was no use finishing my sentence, or arguing even, as my sister skipped away towards her dorm.

I sighed as I looked around. Figuring this would be a good a time as any, I started turning in my place, looking for a familiar head of brown hair. There were several girls in this dorm, but the girl I was looking for was so much more distinct than the ones around me. It's interesting how in the midst of all these women, she's all I see. She's all I wanted to see.

Turning around one more time, I felt myself colliding with another person.

"I'm sorry-" I began, but stopped as I saw the person who started saying the exact same thing.

"Radcliffe," I said, a smile forming on my face.

"Harvard," she returned. The beginnings of a smirk on her pretty face.

"Isabella!"

I turned as I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Alice!" I turned back to Radcliffe as she called out my sister's name.

"Edward?" Alice called to me. "Oh great, you found her!"

"Alice?" I said slowly, trying to make sense out of the scene in front of me.

"Meet my roommate, brother," she grinned as she looped her arms around my Radcliffe's tiny ones. "Isabella."

I felt it in that moment. My world shifted, and it's axis will now revolve around her.

Present day | Summer | Chicago

I can feel my grandson's eyes on me after I told him about meeting Isabella.

"Eyes on the road, kid," I admonish lightly, "I still plan on living long enough to finish this story."

His eyes turned towards the road. I can tell he had plenty of questions running through his head. This, of course, was expected. He was bound to be surprised to learn that the owner of the Vespa was a woman he was unfamiliar with.

"I've just..." he started, but failed to finish the remainder of his sentence.

"I did tell you it was a long story," I reminded him. "I have to tell you, kid, that knowing the entire history of it may change what you think of me. I'm afraid I'm not as perfect as this family likes to think."

I observe him as he considers what I just said, almost seeing the wheels in his head turn as he processed what he knows so far.

I shake my head a bit. "Would you still want to hear the rest of it?"

He nods his head once. His confusion still evident, but the resolve there. "Yes."

I turned to look at the road ahead, remembering the road I took that lead me to her. "Then you can safely assume that I pursued her."

**| To be continued |**

References:

Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You) - Strange and Beautiful (2005); Aqualung

**AN:** Talk to me, folks. I'm needy.


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